


Keith and the Hot Florist

by Kalira



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flirting, Florist Shiro (Voltron), Florists, Friendship, M/M, Sheith Secret Santa 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Keith tripped (literally) into meeting someone new, and now he can't stop thinking about the guy; his friends just want to help him out landing a date with hot florist. They swear.





	Keith and the Hot Florist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exaketededly (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=exaketededly+%28tumblr%29).



> This is my [Sheith Secret Santa](https://sheithsecretsanta.tumblr.com/) gift, written for [exaketededly](http://exaketededly.tumblr.com/)!

“ _No_ , I told you, there’s no _way_ Lotor will make it to those finals when he’s already committed in- _Damn it!_ ” Keith yelled as pain jolted up from his toes and he slammed into something heavy and _fucking solid_ , struggling to catch his balance as he began to topple over it, losing his grip on his phone.

 _“Keith?”_ Allura’s voice was faint and tinny on the other end of the line, fading into inaudibility as the phone dropped.

Strong hands caught around his forearms and Keith stopped moving suddenly. “Sorry about that! Are you okay?” The voice was soft and warm, the steadying grip sliding to his elbows.

Keith looked up - then further up, eyes widening a bit. “Um.” he said faintly, and his fingers tightened where they found themselves on really quite impressive biceps. “Hi.” he added after a moment.

Pretty grey eyes crinkled at the corners and the man who had- who had fucking _caught_ him when he tripped over something like an _idiot_ , smiled at him. “Hello. Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, just this fucking, um-” Keith dragged his eyes away from the handsome face and looked down. “Plant.” he said blankly. There had never been a plant on this walkway before, much less one in a huge, heavy stone pot. Which he should _know_ , because he walked this way when he was leaving the dojo to head home _every day_. And now there was a gigantic, one would think impossible-to-miss pot resting there - which Keith suspected he had tripped over pretty damn spectacularly.

“I’m _so_ sorry!”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Keith managed as he looked up again.

“Oh, I- Er. I left it there.” the man said apologetically, with a sheepish smile that made it impossible for Keith to snap at him for it. “I’m just setting up, you see, and I was _going_ to move it closer to the wall but-” he gestured to the clutter of what looked like a collapsed shelf against the wall of the nearest building. Which, rather than being empty - or, as it had been most recently before that, showing a rather creepy assortment of antique dolls - was full of green. A dozen or more shades of vibrantly living green, dotted with brightly coloured flowers.

“You’re just setting up.” Keith repeated, drawing a blank for a moment. “This is your shop?” he asked, looking back up. The friendly smile broadened and the man nodded, his white forelock nearly falling over his brows.

“Yes! Just moving in this week.” He grinned, squeezing Keith’s arms before releasing his grip. Keith belatedly realised _he_ should let go as well, and yanked his hands back. “I am very sorry, it’s been so quiet here today I thought I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way while I was cluttering up the walkway.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Ah, I’m Shiro, by the way.” He held out one hand again and Keith belatedly noticed it was some kind of matte black prosthetic.

“Er, no worries, I should have been paying attention.” Keith said, frowning at the greenery. “I’m Keith. I train at the dojo,” he jerked a thumb behind himself before clasping Shiro’s hand, “back up that way.”

“Oh!” Shiro smiled at him, shaking his hand. “So, I might see you this way again?” he asked, tipping his head to one side, and Keith coughed, startled.

“Er.” Keith said again, and winced. “Yeah, I- I guess? I mean, I walk this way every day.” he said honestly, glancing vaguely up the street the way he had come.

“You’re at the dojo every day?” Shiro asked curiously, his thumb sliding over the back of Keith’s hand before he released it. “You must be good.” he added.

Keith’s lips quirked. Good or _very bad_ , he thought, amused, to be practising every day. “I compete.” he said with a shrug. “Takes a lot of practise.”

“Compete? Oh I’m sure it does.” Shiro tilted his head down a little closer. “What-” He broke off, looking away, and Keith jumped as he heard a dull thud from inside the shop’s open door. Keith eyed it warily, flexing his shoulders to pull at the fabric he now felt clinging to his back. “That’s probably-” Shiro began. The sound of pottery breaking interrupted him, and he winced. “I should go and see what that was. Pardon me.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead.” Keith said, nodding. He reached up to pull a lock of hair away from his cheek only to realise it was stuck there with drying swear. He winced, yanking it free and shoving it behind his ear with the rest of his hair that had abandoned the ponytail that was supposed to be controlling it. “I should be getting home.” Keith continued with a crooked smile. “I need to clean up. Sorry.” he added, suddenly very aware once more that he was sweaty and dishevelled and he no doubt smelled like the dojo’s mats and . . . well, like someone who’d been sparring and running drills for three hours straight.

“Oh. Oh, of course. It was nice to meet you!” Shiro said with a bright smile, holding out his hand and then hesitating. Keith clasped it briefly, wondered if that was what Shiro had actually intended or not, and then backed away.

“Nice to meet you too. Er, no worries about the plant.” Keith pointed at it, then waved and made himself turn around before he could keep talking or do anything _else_ awkward.

“Bye, maybe I’ll see you again sometime!” Shiro said behind him, and Keith ducked his head, clearing his throat as he strode down the street at his usual brisk pace. He glanced over his shoulder before he got too far and saw Shiro still half-looking his way, but moving sideways towards the door to his shop.

Keith shook his head, but couldn’t quite quash the smile that came to his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon, when Keith passed by the new flower shop the walk was empty - well, there was a double row of plants along the building, but they didn’t clutter up the path the way they had the day before, and, more importantly, the incredibly gorgeous florist himself was nowhere to be seen.

Keith refused to admit that he _might_ have slowed down . . . just a little, as he walked past, waiting to see if Shiro would wander out. He didn’t _stop_ , though, just sighed and then shook his head, scolding himself and hauling his bag a little higher on his shoulder as he walked on.

“Keith!”

Keith jumped, looking back. Shiro was leaning out the door, smiling at Keith and waving at him, metal arm glinting dully in the sun. Keith smiled slightly, turning towards him and, after a moment’s hesitation, returning up the street. “Hey.” he said, giving a small wave and then wondering _why on earth_ he had done that.

“Hey.” Shiro replied, with a quiet laugh. “Oh, um. I found this in that plant,” he flushed, “I left in the way yesterday, that tripped you up.” He held up-

“ _Oh!_ ” Keith groaned. Shiro was holding his phone.

“Must have been missing this, huh?” Shiro asked, holding it out to him. “Sorry, I would have let you know I had it, but I didn’t know if I should call anyone from it and you said you walked this way every day. . .”

Keith took it and shrugged. “I mean- Not really.” He hadn’t actually noticed for a while that it was missing. “Allura let me have it today for losing my phone and also not calling her back, but eh.” He unlocked his phone and rolled his eyes as he saw a banner proclaiming he had seven missed calls from Allura across the background photo of them post-workout a few months ago. Coran had just made some ridiculous proclamation that had cracked _her_ up, and she’d commented under her breath on it and _Keith_ had lost it, and Jet had snapped a photo while they were leaning on each other for support, teasingly saying he should send it to Allura’s boyfriend.

Joke was on Jet, he glared at Keith most of the time anyway and it had little to do with his being Allura’s training partner, even if he was also one of her best friends.

“Oh, is that who was calling last night?” Shiro bit his lip. “Sorry. Your girlfriend must be-”

“Whoa, no.” Keith said, holding out a hand. “I mean, yes, that’s who was calling, sheesh Allura _get a grip_ ,” he muttered at his phone, swiping away the notification banner, “but she’s my sparring partner and very _not_ my girlfriend. She’s just . . . bossy.” he said wryly. “Sorry about that. I don’t,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “ _have_ a girlfriend.”

“My fault.” Shiro said. “I mean, you wouldn’t have lost your phone if it hadn’t been hidden in that plant I left in the way.”

“I could have remembered I’d been actually _on the phone_ when I tripped over the plant like a moron.” Keith countered, grinning. _If you weren’t so distractingly pretty_ , he thought, and nearly choked. “Or, you know, looked around afterwards.” But he certainly hadn’t been going to tear his gaze away from Shiro, Keith admitted to himself.

Shiro looked away briefly and then almost tentatively caught Keith’s gaze again. “Um. . . Speaking of looking around,” Keith made an encouraging noise when he paused, “do you want to- I mean.” He broke off, halfway through gesturing at his shop.

Keith smiled tentatively back. “See the shop? I- Sure. It would be cool to see what you’ve changed around. With the plants and all.” he said awkwardly, as though he had _ever_ set foot in any of the shops that had been through this place before Shiro moved in, in all the years he’d been walking past it to head home from the dojo. He barely even paid enough attention to see when there _was_ a shop there and when it was empty.

Shiro’s smile was sweet and brilliant as he stepped back and held the door open for Keith, gesturing him into a pleasantly warm, humid space absolutely _chockfull of greenery_. Keith paused, shifting his bag - he had expected a lot of plants, obviously, but this was a little like walking into a jungle with flooring and shelves - and Shiro nearly walked into his back. Keith ducked sideways out of the way, narrowly missed knocking a pot off a table with his bag, and stilled again, wincing and muttering an apology.

Keith slid his bag off his shoulder as Shiro brushed off the apology and moved past him, close enough that even though they didn’t touch, Keith could _feel_ him. Keith shivered at the feeling and shoved his bag under the table before he could actually hit anything with it, wondering where the hell his usual special awareness had gone.

He followed after Shiro, listening to him talk about the plants a little with a smaller, almost shy smile. Keith, who had never really cared much for plants _specifically_ , though he loved being outside the city and the quiet of nature, was solidly enraptured.

Occasionally dodging plants on his walk home from the dojo became a part of Keith’s daily routine. So did Shiro’s sweet smile and needless apologies, and even more often simply stopping inside the flower shop for a while with no particular excuse save to talk to Shiro. He didn’t seem to mind, and if Keith had nothing to say he was happy to talk about his plants.

Apparently Keith had to dodge them occasionally because some of them, Shiro informed him, needed to spend time in the sun, but not _too_ much time - and Shiro often wound up rearranging them at about the same time Keith was leaving the dojo, a quiet stretch of the afternoon, though not every day.

Keith didn’t care much which plants needed how much time in the sun, and certainly didn’t remember which ones were which, but the excuse to talk to Shiro was prized - and watching him on the days when he moved the heavy pots holding small trees was _definitely_ worth the occasional stubbed toe. Keith’s original assessment had, if anything, fallen slightly short. Shiro’s arms were. . .

Keith cleared his throat, flushing slightly. “Sorry, what did you say?” he asked quickly, dragging his gaze from Shiro’s triceps to his face.

Shiro grinned at him, shifting the pot he held until more of its weight was balanced against his metal arm. “Could you please move that spider lily? I thought I already had.”

Keith glanced around, not wanting to admit that he only had the vaguest idea what a spider lily looked like, and guessed. He grabbed the pot overflowing with pale purple flowers that looked more like fireworks than lilies to him. “This one?” he asked, and Shiro nodded. Keith hauled it up - it was heavier than it looked - and stepped out of the way as Shiro passed by him, close enough for the back of his wrist to brush against Keith’s bicep, and put down the tree he held. Keith wasn’t sure where to put the lily, so he kept it in his hands until Shiro turned and-

“Oh, I’ll take that!” Shiro said, reaching out hurriedly, moving to Keith’s side, his hands sliding over Keith’s as he took the plant away. Keith swallowed, letting it go and watching Shiro’s face. “Thank you.” he said, with another sweet smile.

Keith licked his lips as Shiro turned away and put the lily down, humming to himself and fussing with the plants. “Shiro?” he said tentatively.

“Keith?” Shiro said almost playfully, looking over his shoulder.

Keith bit his lip, hesitating. Shiro straightened and turned towards him, expression sobering. “Is something wrong?” he asked, moving closer.

“No!” Keith said hurriedly. “Only. . .” He struggled against the impulsive desire to run away as Shiro’s pretty eyes fixed on his. “I wanted to ask you. . .”

“Yes?” Shiro prompted, stepping a little closer, raising his eyebrows. Keith’s heart thumped and raced in a way it _never_ did in the competition ring, and he wished faintly that he was facing down an opponent twice his size and not looking up at Shiro, who was just . . . _unfairly_ gorgeous and kind and-

Keith heard himself make a slightly odd, choked sound even as he fixed his gaze on the scar across Shiro’s nose rather than meeting his eyes, and panicked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, see, the thing is we have to get Keith _inside_ the flower shop - you know, get him to _talk_ to this hot florist.” Jet said with a smirk, tapping his fingers in a rolling pattern on his cup. “Some _reason_ for him to really talk to the guy.”

“I do not need-” Keith began.

“Allura likes flowers. Go in there and buy Allura flowers.” Pidge instructed, poking him with the straw from her coffee concoction as they walked. Keith had been more than sick of this topic of conversation before they even came _near_ the flower shop; now that they were just up the street he was ready to break and run. If only he’d thought it would work.

Keith started to say no to Pidge’s _suggestion_ , but- “No, you idiot!” Jet countered before he got a chance. “If he goes in there to buy flowers for someone _else_ hot florist is going to think he’s not _available_ \- and let’s be honest,” Jet dropped an arm around Keith’s shoulders and squeezed him in uncomfortably close, “our poor Keith needs all the help he can get, it’s not like hot florist is going to notice him flirting without some _serious_ he-”

“Going to be hard to compete in that prelim next Monday if I break your arm off and beat you with it.” Keith said pleasantly, and Jet made a _chh_ sound, waving his free hand. He also brought his arm back pretty quickly, though, and Keith smiled sharply at him.

“Going to be hard for you to compete in that prelim next Monday if you’re all twisted up thinking about hot florist instead of trying to _win_.” Jet snipped back, waggling his eyebrows. “We’re _helping_ , Keith. We’re your friends! Friends help each other.” he said in a saccharine tone.

Keith eyed Jet warily. “I don’t trust either of you.” he said. “At all.”

Pidge poked him with her straw again. “Thereby proving that you can occasionally be very wise, for all you’ve chosen both a career and a hobby both based entirely off of courting injuries,” she said, and nodded across the street, “but you do _need_ help, apparently, so we’re here for moral support. You know Allura would be here too if she didn’t have to work.” Yes, and she’d probably be physically dragging him towards the flower shop if she thought it would class as ‘helpful’, Keith thought with exasperated amusement. “Moral support and our own entertainment, admittedly, but what are friends for?”

“Work.” Jet scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure it’s _so_ much work, schmoozing daddy’s old business partners. Why, I only wish- _Oof!_ ” he yelped as Pidge thumped him in the stomach with her elbow.

“Allura would have done it if she were here.” Pidge said, raising her eyebrows, before he could voice a protest. Jet glared at her, bent over a bit.

“Allura would have hit you harder.” Keith corrected wryly, looking down at Jet. He trained with Allura several times a week and had for years; she hit hard.

“You’re both bitches.” Jet said breathlessly and Keith raised an eyebrow at him, then shrugged carelessly. Jet scowled and rubbed his belly as though he’d been actually hurt, and Pidge rolled her eyes, sipping from her drink. “Oh right, is that the flower shop?”

“No I’m sure it’s some _other_ building with plants everywhere and a big sign that says _plants & flowers_ above it.” Pidge told him with studied patience and a very judgemental look.

Keith stifled a snicker as Jet’s expression went sulky, but he said nothing in response, refusing to acknowledge Pidge’s jab. Keith bit his lip, stretching up a little and craning his neck to look past the plants - as best he could; there wasn’t much window space that wasn’t filled by them - for a glimpse of Shiro inside.

Then one of the tallest trees sitting out on the walk shifted and Shiro moved out from behind it, and Keith’s stomach turned over. He took a rather-too-large gulp from his icy cold tea and fought not to cough as it hit the back of his throat. His eyes stayed fixed on Shiro as he patted the tree fondly, then moved across to a similar-looking one and picked it up as well. Keith stifled an appreciative noise in another - more careful - sip as he watched the muscles in Shiro’s arms flex and bunch.

“Holy _monkeys_ hot florist looks like he could benchpress you. And Allura. At once.” Pidge said, eyes wide. “Possibly with me on top. He’s a _florist_?”

“What?” Jet looked around, skimmed right past Shiro, and then suddenly back as he evidently realised the man hauling plants around was probably the florist. “Holy shit. You actually might have some taste, Keith.”

Pidge elbowed him again.

“What was _that_ for?” Jet demanded, dragging his eyes off Shiro - he was missing out, Keith thought absently, watching Shiro pause to roll up his sleeves, baring his forearms, and then lift a much smaller potted tree up onto a low table against the wall.

“Allura would have done it if she were here.” Pidge repeated with a bright little grin Keith only saw from the corner of his eye.

Keith ignored both of them, used to this and far more absorbed in admiring Shiro. He sighed softly, tipping his head to one side as Shiro bent, with a fond look on his face, and began poking at a flowering vine of some kind.

“You have it bad.” Pidge said, spinning her straw between her fingers. “Seriously, Keith, just go talk to the guy. We’re here to make sure you don’t back out.” She grinned.

“We’re also here to give you a little _assistance_ if it proves necessary.” Jet’s grin was sharper and Keith eyed them both, attention suddenly fixed once more on his friends.

“No.” he said firmly, pointing at first one, then the other.

“Then get going!” Jet said, raising his eyebrows. “Go hit on hot florist. Prove you got some game to go with that taste.” He winked, giving a rakish sort of leer, and Keith _felt_ his own face doing something ridiculous in response as he took a step back.

“I do _not_ want help.” Keith said clearly.

“Prove you don’t need it and we’ll stay out of the whole thing.” Pidge said with a little smirk. “At least for now. Otherwise, my friend, I’m afraid you’re _getting_ help. Besides, now I’m even more curious about your hot florist.”

Keith groaned quietly as he turned around - Shiro wasn’t out on the walk any more, he had probably gone back inside - and headed across the street. His friends were _terrible_ and if he had any idea how he’d wound up with _these_ in the first place he might try and replace them, but Keith had a sneaking suspicion he’d had nothing to do with the process of ‘making friends’ other than _being_ there.

Besides - he glanced over his shoulder with a faint smile - he did _kind_ of like them. Sometimes.

Jet made a rude gesture and stuck his tongue out and Keith squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before steadfastly turning his attention back to Shiro’s shop and hurrying inside. He just didn’t like them very much _right now_.

“Keith!” Shiro greeted as soon as he walked in, waving one slightly dirty hand. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Yeah, er. . .” Keith trailed off, because his first impulse had been to explain how his terrible, untrustworthy friends had dragged him here. Keith didn’t really lie much; if he didn’t want to say something he just . . . didn’t talk. What Pidge called his ‘murder-face’ kept most people from bothering him if he remained silent. “Hey, Shiro. Good to see you.” he said instead. “You,” he paused, “you don’t mind, right?” he asked.

“Of course not!” Shiro said hurriedly, dusting his hands together and then moving around the counter closer to Keith. “I’m always happy to see you here.” He smiled.

Keith couldn’t repress what was probably a goofy-looking grin of his own in response. “Me too.” he admitted. “I mean-” He groaned quietly, putting the heel of his hand to his brow. “You know what I mean.”

Shiro laughed. “I do.” He tugged Keith’s hand away from his face. His own face was lightly pink. “I’m glad. So,” he cocked his head to one side, fingers tightening briefly around Keith’s hand, “are you training at the dojo today?” He glanced down Keith’s body - he was wearing jeans and a buttondown shirt he hadn’t known he owned until he’d had to drag Jet out of his closet earlier today, and still holding his tea in one hand.

“Ah. . . No.” Keith shook his head. “Actually, I was . . . nearby, with some friends, and we came this way, so of course. . .” He gestured at Shiro, smiling, and hummed with pleased satisfaction when the colour along Shiro’s cheekbones deepened a little. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” he’d been out of town, and then taken a rest day before he went back to the dojo _or_ work, “and I couldn’t resist.”

“How was your competition?” Shiro asked, and Keith pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. “You, uh, don’t look like you lost a fight.” he said awkwardly, looking somewhat lost.

Keith’s brows rose and he laughed. “Well, I’d hope I don’t look _that_ bad, anyway.” he said wryly. “No, I placed well, thanks.” Keith grinned. He’d been _delighted_ to place higher than Acxa, particularly, even if he hadn’t won top place. He got on with her well enough most of the time - but he liked her better when they were ranked more closely, and she’d bested him last time.

“Good!” Shiro said, looking genuinely pleased for him, if still faintly confused. “Congratulations?”

“Thanks.” Keith said, shrugging and taking a step closer to Shiro only to pause as the door opened. He made to step out of the way to let Shiro address his customers, glancing over as he did so, and then paused mid-movement. He realised that of course he should have _expected_ his friends to follow him inside.

Keith glared at them pointedly, but didn’t really expect it to accomplish anything, so wasn’t surprised when Pidge only glanced at him over her glasses and snorted, and Jet seemed to be ignoring him entirely.

“Hi!” Jet said, focusing entirely on Shiro instead, giving one of his more obnoxious smirks and looking Shiro _very obviously_ up and down. Keith faintly wished he was close enough to elbow Jet the way Pidge had been doing. “We’re friends of Keith’s. We’re here to-”

“We’re here to make sure he asks you out.” Pidge said bluntly, to Keith’s mortification.

Shiro’s brows rose and he looked from Jet and Pidge back to Keith. “Um. . .”

“I _tried_.” Keith said helplessly, wondering again how he had such _awful_ friends and half fighting a smile at the same time.

“You tried- _Ohh_.” Pidge said, and frowned.

“And you turned him down?” Jet’s frown was a little more of a scowl, to Keith’s continued embarrassment, particularly when Jet walked over and draped an arm around his shoulders again, almost proprietary this time, and gestured at Keith with the other hand as though showing him off. “Look, I know he’s a mess and probably you didn’t have a clue he liked you until-”

“ _Jet._ ” Keith snapped, shoving at him. Keith wasn’t prone to embarrassment, really he wasn’t, _how_ did his friends manage to do this to him?

. . .or, he thought, glancing up at Shiro through his own messy fringe, it might be _him_ , not them.

“Quiet Keith, I’m helping.” Jet scolded absently, pushing Keith’s arm down without seeming much bothered by the shove to his side. “Really, though, he does-”

“Jet!” Keith slammed his elbow into Jet’s ribs, then caught him by one forearm before he could trip sideways over a pot of some little white flowers as he pulled away from the light blow. “Seriously, _stop helping_.” he snapped.

“You tried, huh?” Shiro asked, his lips twitching, and Keith flushed.

“It’s _really hard_ to get them to stop once they make up their minds.” Keith explained, wincing. “With _anything_.”

“I can see that.” Shiro said, laughing quietly.

“Be fair,” Pidge said, hopping up onto a bare space of a trestle table between trays of seedlings, “you _clearly_ needed to ask out hot florist, and if you need us to push you into it so be it. And anyway if we were less stubborn we’d never have become friends with _you_.” She gave him a firm, knowing look.

“I can _also_ see that.” Shiro said, and Keith narrowed his eyes. “So are you going to ask me out, Keith?” he asked, leaning a little closer.

“No.” Keith huffed, crossing his arms and letting his jaw drop closer to his chest.

Shiro’s fingers brushed his jaw and Keith sighed softly let himself be nudged into looking up. “I suppose it’s a good thing you already have, then.” Shiro said playfully, and Keith fought a grin.

“Wait, what?” Pidge half yelped, and Keith lost his hold on laughter. He reached up and slid his hands over Shiro’s shoulders, tipping his head back as he moved a little closer.

“I’m glad, too.” Keith said, too quietly for his friends to really hear.

Shiro slid his hands over Keith’s hips and kissed him lightly. Then he looked away, lightly flushed - Keith suspected _he_ might be too - back to Keith’s friends. “. . .‘hot florist’?” he questioned, and Keith whined and hid his face against Shiro’s shoulder.

“Dude have you looked at yourself?” Jet asked, waving that off. “Keith told us he met you a few weeks ago but didn’t give us your name, and it was _obvious_ what we should call you. What do you mean he already asked you out? Keith!” he protested in a strident tone.

“I _did_ try to tell you. This morning.” Keith pointed out, straightening. “I _also_ thought you might have gotten a _clue_ when I cut out of practise early a couple of weeks ago and _changed into nice clothes_ to go _meet someone at a café_.” he pointed out very slowly and loudly.

“You didn’t tell _me_ that.” Pidge objected, and Keith flung his hands up.

“You weren’t _there_!” Keith snapped. “I don’t have to tell you everything, and I was a little distracted by, you know, _being on dates_.”

“Hot florist?” Shiro asked again, nudging Keith’s shoulder with a closed hand and, when Keith looked up, grinning at him, eyebrows arched.

“I didn’t come up with it.” Keith said hurriedly, clearing his throat.

“It _does_ suit him, though, Keith.” Pidge said, with an amused sharpness. “You can’t deny _that_ , now can you?” Keith glanced at her and she was fixing him with a look that, despite her amusement, promised Keith was going to get a rant later about how he’d let her continue on with her incorrect assumptions. Like it was _his_ fault she was impossible to stop once she got going on something.

“Well, _no_ , of course not.” Keith said, fidgeting and glancing at Shiro, who was pinking again, though his broad grin hadn’t faltered in the slightest. “You’re gorgeous.” He prodded Shiro gently with his first two knuckles and laughed as Shiro squirmed at the brush along what appeared to be a ticklish spot just over his hipbone. Keith made a note of it and promised himself he’d revisit _that_ experiment later.

“What would _you_ have come up with for him, then?” Jet challenged, propping one hip against a shelf and raising his eyebrows at Keith as he crossed his arms.

“. . .how about _Shiro_?” Keith suggested, giving his friend a funny look. Jet rolled his eyes.

“No imagination.” Jet said, shaking his head with a mock sorrowful expression. “You sure about this, _hot florist_?” He grinned wickedly and Keith had a flash of a premonition that Jet was probably not going to use Shiro’s name, ever. “I _mean_. . .” He gestured to Keith.

Shiro laughed and Keith flushed and elbowed him gently, but let himself be pulled closer with Shiro’s arm around his waist. “I’m sure.” Shiro said warmly. “Thanks for your concern.” he added dryly. It was _terrible_ , Keith thought, how well Shiro and his friends seemed to be getting along already - he would spare some dread for when Allura finally met him but she was more polite, generally, and far less awful than Pidge and Jet - and Keith was never going to hear the end of _any_ of this, he knew.

He leaned his head against Shiro’s shoulder, utterly failing to quash his grin, feeling warm and pleased as his friends joked around and Shiro slid into it comfortably, even if Keith himself was the butt of most of their humour at the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I am sorry about them.” Keith said, frowning, a few minutes after Pidge and Jet had finally been persuaded to head out _and_ leave Keith behind. He probably owed Shiro a better explanation and a nice dinner or something, at least, for the way Keith’s friends had _ambushed_ him.

Shiro peeked over the counter from where he was crouched on the floor behind it. “Did you really tell them about me, and then,” he paused, raising an eyebrow and half-smiling at Keith, “ _not_ tell them when you actually asked me on a date?”

Keith sighed, leaning forwards on the counter himself and rubbing his face. “I . . . _mentioned_ you,” he said, clearing his throat, “once or twice, but honestly I thought they had picked up on it when we started going out.”

Shiro bit his lip, metal hand curling around the edge of the counter. “Really?” he asked, and Keith groaned and nodded. Shiro dipped his head, shaking slightly.

“Shiro?” Keith said, straining up a little to get a better look at his boyfriend and reaching out with one hand. “Are you. . .”

“It’s just,” Shiro tipped his head back, grinning, “so _funny_. Sorry, baby.” he added.

Keith huffed, and Shiro stood up, still chuckling quietly. He cupped Keith’s face, probably smearing dirt along his cheekbones, and leaned over the counter to kiss him, soft and sweet, shallow to accommodate Shiro’s apparently irrepressible smile. Keith sighed softly through his nose and wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, gently nipping his lower lip as he laughed again, quiet and muffled.

Shiro moaned softly at the sting and Keith gently sucked the spot he’d bitten, running his tongue over it, before breaking the kiss, though he didn’t pull back. “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t even manage to warn you before they . . . descended on you like that.” Keith said softly, nudging his nose against Shiro’s. 

“I _am_ glad to have met them. I think.” Shiro added playfully.

“Maybe reserve judgement.” Keith warned dryly. “Allura’s quite a handful too, and she’ll want to be next.”

“I’ll look forward to it, then.” Shiro said cheerfully. “Even if I’d been more bothered,” he said, suddenly more serious, and gave Keith a feathery-soft brush of a kiss, “it would be worth being, um, ambushed by them. You are.” Keith flushed, trying to look away only to find it was rather difficult with Shiro still leaning close and his own arms wrapped around Shiro’s shoulders.

Shiro’s thumb brushed back and forth along his jaw, then Shiro kissed him again, deeper this time, warm and lingering, and Keith sank into it with a low purr, leaning against the counter between them.


End file.
